Third Time's the Charm
by vivevoce
Summary: "Welcome back, Rosebud." Bad things come in pairs. Good things happen in threes. Rose starts her sophomore year back in New York City. Almost instantly, she meets some kid and asks him to Homecoming. It's all uphill from there.


_Okay, for everyone who has me on Alert and sees this pop up, sorry. I haven't seen this show since I was a kid. But damn if I wasn't disappointed when they cancelled it. _

_Either way, this is something written just for my kicks (: If any of you remember it, major props. I can't tell you how much I remember of the show, but picking up on this after years of never even remembering it... Well, I really had fun writing it. _

_Enjoy._

Disclaimer: I do not American Dragon: Jake Long.

**1.**

She doesn't know how she recognizes him, when she sees that silhouette against the windows of her parent's apartment. She thinks he's a robber at first, and prepares to back slowly away and call for her dad.

But then she stops, and wonders how someone so small could be a threat. He's turned away, crouching on the ledge instead of facing her window.

Maybe he's crazy. Maybe he's about to jump.

Hong Kong doesn't feel so safe anymore, she thinks.

**2.**

Suddenly, the curtains part in a breeze and she sees the back of his head. His hair is black, but there's an unexpected green around the edges that stops her. The streetlights of Hong Kong shine dim and golden-orange on his skin, bringing back the image of… _scales_, her mind whispers. _But that isn't right_, she then thinks, and she's confused as to how she knows. The color is supposed to be darker, bolder.

_Red._

She freezes.

_Wait._

When he turns around and sees her, there is a certain jolt that strikes her as familiar. He's at the wrong angle, and it's too dark to see his face. But shock and… _grief_ and a strange expectancy leave his shoulders slack under his jacket.

She knows him. She has to know him.

Before she can make a move toward him though, he straightens up from his crouch, turns, and steps off the ledge.

Rose can't scream, can only run, silent, slamming the windows open so that they crash into the walls, glass scratching. She doesn't see anything below her; no crumpled body or bloody cement. But when she looks up, there's a long shadow cutting across the moon, and the sigh that escapes her is one of relief.

**3.**

She convinces her parents to come back to New York two years later—mostly because her father's work is relocating him again, and partly because the school system in Hong Kong is a little too competitive for her tastes. She's the only sophomore transferring in the middle of the semester, so she feels nervous and sheepish carrying her empty book bag into an already full class. She doesn't know the schedule yet, but she resolves to, sitting down with determination.

Rose's first period is World History, and she sits behind a black girl with springy, curly pigtails and a Panda logo sweatshirt. She thinks her name is Trixie, but she can't be sure. She just knows that when the teacher introduced Rose to the class, Trixie was the only to assume a look that reminded Rose a little of someone spotting a bomb in an airport.

When the papers are handed back along her row, Trixie gives her this strange, scared look before smiling uneasily. Rose doesn't know what else to do, so she smiles back.

_She looks at me like I'm part of Al Qaeda._

Somehow, she gets the feeling that she's unwelcome here, but she doesn't understand Trixie's strange behavior considering they'd never met. She doesn't find out why, until the bell rings and Trixie fairly mows down the crowd to get into the hall. Following the rest of the class out, she spies Trixie across the hall slamming someone's locker shut and hissing 'Yo, Jakey boy! I don't know how to tell you this but…"

**4. **

The boy in front of the locker has black hair in green spikes, and wears a red jacket. Rose thinks she's going to drop her bag, but the strap just cuts her shoulder and bangs against her hip. She blocks all traffic in the hallway. She makes sure he doesn't see her, but she remembers his name.

**5. **

She has no classes with him, unfortunately, but she makes it her mission to find out as much as possible. She finds out through the school grapevine that his name is Jake Long; that he's half-Chinese and is a pretty good skater and has a really cocky attitude that makes most of the girls she asks shudder distastefully. He sounds so… normal, she thinks.

But she can't get that image out of her mind of red scales and full moons and falling.

Something about him intrigues her, to the dismay of the general male population, and she doesn't rest until she meets him personally, face to face.

**6. **

At first, he is nervous, and avoids her eyes, seeming nothing like the confident, cocky boy she's heard so much about. She introduces herself, and shakes his hand, but the electric zip she gets from the tips of his fingers makes her draw her own back. He looks dismayed.

"Dude! I'm so sorry. I guess I'm just uh, kinda static-y? Uhm. It happens. Been shocking myself on doorknobs all day," he stammers and it's so cute that she laughs. At that he seems to calm down a little, but he's still so… nervous around her. Not the way Trixie is, but close.

"Hey," she says softly after another minute of uncomfortable fidgeting and him still not looking at her face. Her hand catches on his arm and he freezes. "Hey. I'm not going to hurt you," she says, soothingly. It's strange, but instinctive; the words seem necessary. "Whatever it is that's making you so jumpy... I'm sorry about that. It's just… You look like this guy I once knew," she lies.

It seemed to be the wrong thing to say.

"Must've been some good looking guy," he jokes after a long pause, turning back to her. His smile is forced.

"He… I saw him in Hong Kong," she says, hesitantly. Then it comes back to her, full force. Lightning striking. "You… You helped me pick my books up! When I first moved," she explains, babbling in her excitement. "I remember you now, this was two years ago, you were riding your skateboard and I was getting in the taxi, and…"

Her voice trails off as she realizes the muscles that had been so tense in his shoulders are slackening.

"Yeah," he agrees, relieved yet somehow still looking almost...

"Yeah! That was me."

…disappointed. She doesn't know why, but it feels like there's so much more to this than just a random stranger who helped her gather her books once when she was moving.

"I'll see you around, Jake," she says firmly, making it a promise. She notices how he gives a noncommittal reply, a sort of "Yeah, sure" before politely walking away.

**7. **

She asks him out for Homecoming, to the shock of all her friends. It's only been a month, but she makes connections quickly, and they're all as scandalized as if they'd known her from birth and had her best interests at heart.

"Jake _Long?_" Karen says in stark disbelief. "The skater boy? You don't mean Jake Parker or Jake Samuelson or… God, Jake _Berenstein_ at least?"

"He's in my Trig class. Isn't he the one you keep talking to?" Bridgette says slyly. "I think he's sweet."

"He's kind of a tool," Jackie says in disgust. "God, the way he carries on, you think he's God's gift to women or something. And he always ditches class too," she informs Rose dutifully. "He won't pay attention and just stares out the window all period until he suddenly sits up and leaves. Teachers are always getting on his case about it, but he won't listen."

"Meow. Case of the sour grapes much?" Bridgette sniggers. Jackie glares.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she says with as much dignity as she could spare. Rose covers her mouth to hide her smile.

"Come off it. You totally think biracial boys are cute," Bridgette says sagely.

"Yeah, didn't you spend all freshmen year passing notes to him or something?" Karen grins.

"_Shove off_," Jackie mutters. "I'm looking out for Rose's best interests, alright?"

"He's a little short for your tastes though," Karen observes playfully to Rose, ignoring her. "Doesn't he come to like, your shoulder?"

"You couldn't wear heels if you go with him," Bridgette admits. "You'd be like Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes. Skyscraper status."

"Whatever. I'm still asking him." Rose rolls her eyes.

"Does this mean that you're going to be dating him after this?" Karen says apprehensively.

"Only if he says yes."

"Awww would you look at that? Rosie's getting all red over a boy." Bridgette sing songs. The blush spreads even further up her face.

**8. **

He says yes. She's going to meet him there at seven, because he has to do something for his grandpa before this, he says apologetically. So she puts on the dress she bought specifically for this occasion and does her makeup and twists up her hair just right. She leaves with her friends and waits for him alone, turning down boys who think she's single. All her other friends are with their dates and it's a little awkward when the clock reaches eight and he's still not there. Eventually, they're all getting up to dance, because there's only so long one can wait out of politeness. They excuse themselves into the dark, gyrating train on the dance floor. She thinks someone's spiked the punch, judging from the smell, and goes to dump it in the trash. Suddenly she feels like crying.

He stood her up.

He really couldn't have been interested, because here she was, alone at Homecoming, in a dress she picked out specifically with him in mind; holding her purse, waiting for her friends to get over grinding on their boys so that she could just go home. The music pounds hard in her eardrums and Rose covers her mouth, trying not to… She feels a hand tap her shoulder.

She turns around and there he is, hair messy like he's just raked a fistful of gel through it and in a proper dress shirt and tie and… he has a corsage. It's beautiful, creamy white roses, and he holds it out for her, nervously.

None of her other friends had gotten flowers from their dates. She stands there, unsure what to do, hoping that the water in her eyes wasn't too noticeable.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, Rose," he says, offering it to her again. He smiles as Rose finally gives him her hand and he slips it on. Then he sweeps into a bow, kisses her knuckles gallantly like this is some Victorian era ball, and asks "May I have this dance?"

Rose takes one look at the gyrating, roiling mass of bodies on the dance floor and hesitates. Jake notices.

"Like this," he says, hand on her waist and the other leading her swaying and turning into… an actual waltz. It's totally out of place with the music and she finally laughs.

"Look at you, Mr. Smooth."

"Girl, I've got a reputation to uphold, ya know?"

And she forgives him. He's not that short either, she thinks as she leans her head on his shoulder. They ignore the punch and the pulsing music. Instead she just sways, and lines her heels up with his footsteps, and watches the light turn his eyes yellow, then fuschia then blue then green. Breathe in hints of his cologne, which reminds her of her dad a little, spicy and fragrant and…

Familiar? Her hand tightens on his and he stops.

"Something up?"

"You…" She tries to get the words straight in her head, but what can she say without sounding crazy? He's just so familiar tonight, like she's not dancing with a stranger, but some other boy she once knew and was friends with. The lighting, the way he looks, the music and dancing and…

It clicks.

"Jake?"

**9. **

"That's my name, don't wear it out." He smiles. "Yes?"

She can't speak. She only looks at him now, in the context of this night, and of all a sudden she remembers, bits and pieces and haziness, but… it's enough.

Skulls mounted on dark clothed men.

Skulls. Mermaids. Staffs. A talking sharpei.

Trixie with her sass and Spud, who she'd never met but suddenly remembers, with his beanie and pot-headed ease. A dance, on top of the Pantheon Building.

Dragons…

She really does cry this time, and he's alarmed.

"Rose! Hey, hey, don't cry. Am I doing something wrong? I'm sorry I was late, my gramps really needed to—"

"Catch a gryffin?" She laughs desperately. "Help a brownie from tree? Find a nixie?"

He looks at her like she's crazy, hoping she's being sarcastic. There's a cautious hope in his eyes.

"Help him with his shop," he lies, and she _knows _he's lying, and the knowledge is wonderful.

"_Jake," _she whispers and hugs him, holds him tight and doesn't plan on letting go. He pats her back, startled but going along with it. She closes her eyes, getting the lapels of his shirt wet and thank god her mascara was waterproof because but for once _she doesn't care_.

"You've gotten taller," she mutters tearfully, pulling back, hand against his face. His cheekbones are more prominent, his face a little leaner since middle school. But his eyes still look the same. The shock is the same.

"Since I met you in October, right?" He gives it one last try, tests her with hopeful eyes. She shakes her head.

"Since Hong Kong. Since the skulls. Since I left."

**10. **

Finally it's out. She remembers. She's so shocked that she finally does, that she remembers all they'd been through together, all he's done for her.

And she's… wondering why he's so quiet.

"Jake?"

"You remember." He says numbly. "You really… it's really you. Rose."

She strokes his hair back, and sees him struggling with his own emotions too.

"Yes, Jake—I'm back. I'm really _back_." Her composure crumples and her hand tightens on his shoulder. "I've missed you."

And she leans in and kisses him. She pretends she doesn't feel wetness on his cheeks too, pretends that it's just hers. He kisses her back, but pulls away quickly, turns his head to the side. His breathing is ragged. She kisses his cheek, hides the tear-tracks from anyone who might be scrutinizing them. And just holds him, swaying to the beat, rubbing his back.

Finally, he recovers his composure and turns back to her, eyes still gleaming but calm.

"Welcome back, Rosebud," he says, and that simple nickname, that acknowledgement, that _homecoming…_ it's enough.

Seeing him… it was like coming home.

How fitting, she muses, considering where they are. They're both silent.

"Thank you," she finally says. "For everything."

He kisses her properly this time.


End file.
